A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. " Thames was about to reply, but a glance from Wood checked him. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. Such was the hubbub and tumult around him, that the carpenter could not hear its plunge into the flood.
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